


Melatonin

by OnlySkyAboveMe, slitheredherefromeden



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySkyAboveMe/pseuds/OnlySkyAboveMe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slitheredherefromeden/pseuds/slitheredherefromeden
Summary: At 2am in an unspecified hotel and in an unspecified timeline, we find our heroes, wide awake.
Relationships: Scott Moir & Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 20
Kudos: 145





	Melatonin

Scott sighs as his intense staring session with his darkened ceiling is interrupted by the vibration of his phone. He reaches over for it blindly, eyes still firmly fixed on the crack that is forming on the edge of the light fitment. The screen is too bright as he unlocks it, and he squints as he flicks up the settings bar and reduces it to something a little less blinding. His home screen doesn’t contain many applications, but the ones that are there all have red notification dots next to them. Those dots drive Cara insane, as do the 1,476 unread emails in the mail app, but he doesn’t really care. He misses the days of Nokia 3310s and the ability to only call, text, and play snake. Simpler times.

He pulls down the notifications bar from the top of the screen to see who’s bothering him this time and frowns when he sees that the source of this unnecessary 2am buzzing is an Instagram like from Tessa. He switches over to WhatsApp and selects their chat, it says she was last online just a couple of minutes ago, so he sends her a message.

**Can’t sleep?**

Two blue ticks appear immediately, and then her response.

** _Nope. _ **

** _Sorry, did I wake you?_ **

_ Chance would be a fine thing _ , he thinks as he taps out his own reply.

**No, can’t sleep either.**

**Always in sync, eh?**

Three dots appear swiftly, but disappear just as fast. Then they’re back, but gone again. Scott rubs at his eyes, wondering if they’re playing tricks on him in his sleep-craving state.

** _Come over?_ **

He stares at the screen for a moment, now confident that his eyes are, in fact, deceiving him. But the more he looks at her message the more he realises it’s real. He’s jumping out of bed and pulling on his sweatpants and hoodie faster than it takes his phone to lock itself again, and he hurries out of his room with her room key burning a hole in his pocket.

~

This isn’t new for them, sleeping together that is.

And by that he doesn’t mean sex. Awkward, youthful hand-holding and minor, one-sided adolescent infatuations eventually only led to a soft and swift goodnight kiss in the corridor of a Gothenburg hotel, and a few years later an emotionally charged near-miss in Moscow that was ultimately (and for the best) interrupted by Chiddy returning to his and Scott’s shared room.

They are not unfamiliar with falling asleep next to one another. From the backseat of their parents’ cars with a Marvin the Martian pillow between them, to resting their heads on one another’s shoulders on bus and plane journeys all over the world. From movie nights on days off from training, to party nights in athletes’ villages. They’ve slept together everywhere. 

It’s the other reason (the unspoken reason) that people hate to hang out with them as a pair. The number of times Jeff despaired when the moment he was able to get a word in edgewise in a conversation he would turn to find they had fallen asleep against one another – in hotel lobbies, backstage at Stars On Ice, once vaguely spooned across the wide back seat of a minivan in Japan.

When they were young it was convenience.

But now…

… now, if he’s being really, totally honest, it’s comfort.

A comfort he craves more than he knows he really should.

Because he just wants to be close to her. Because skating and their partnership has conditioned him to perform at his best when their hearts beat in unison.

And guess what? When their hearts beat in unison as they hold one another close – not balancing on their skate guards in a cold and noisy rink, but warm and cosy under the covers – he’s pretty damn good at sleeping too.

But it’s also like a drug. And like all drugs, once you experience it’s blissful effects you crave it more and more. If he could bottle what they share and keep it on his nightstand, perhaps he wouldn’t need to wander off to her room at 2am. But then that’s nowhere near as fun.

~

Hotel corridors are strange places at 2am. Eerily quiet despite the number of people behind all the doors; elevators hardly being used; the constant humming and buzzing of ice machines and fire exit lighting.

They've never been on the same floor of a hotel, not once in their decades together, even when they book for themselves and not through a tour organiser or Skate Canada. There's little to no wait for the elevator, but he still jabs impatiently at the button with her floor number on it, then taps the 'close door' button repeatedly until the doors move inwards towards one another and shut him inside. He offers himself a cursory glance in the mirrored wall, not bothering to run a hand through his hair or untuck the hood from the neck of his sweater; Tessa doesn't care what he looks like, will probably barely see him. Her room will be dark when he arrives, and he'll slip into her bed like he always does. She's assured him he's always welcome there in these situations, that he doesn't need to ask her permission or wait for it before climbing in. Sometimes she'll cuddle up to him straight away, other times they keep their distance, just the weight of the other next to them on the mattress enough to help them relax and find peace in slumber.

He taps gently at the door before putting the key-card into the slot, waiting for the green light before pressing on the handle and opening the heavy door as quietly as possible. Once or twice in the past he's arrived in her room to find her already asleep; the safety of the knowledge that he would soon be there enough to allow her to drift off. Once she'd texted him half asleep already and had started screaming when he accidentally let the door to her room bang open, jolting her awake.

The bedside light is on when he enters, and he can hear a tap running from the bathroom. He calls out to her softly, making her aware of his presence, before depositing her room key and his phone on the other nightstand and pulling off some of the layers he’d put on mere minutes before. He shivers a little, and quickly slips beneath the sheets – she favours a cooler sleeping atmosphere than he does, claims she likes to burrow beneath the extra blankets instead, and always tells him he should turn the heat down in his room, seeing as he normally ends up with at least two limbs sticking out from under his covers by morning to regulate his body temperature.

He opens one eye when he hears her exit the bathroom, and he opens the other and lifts his head from the pillow as she walks towards the bed. She’s wearing a pair of grey cotton shorts and a matching, lace-trimmed camisole with a small white bow where the point of the V rests over the centre of her sternum. Scott swallows a little dryly, wishing he’d brought his water bottle with him. He’s seen her in less – literally in just her skin-tone skating tights – but not in this context, not in these surroundings. 

Her smile is soft and maybe a little sleepy around the edges and she crawls onto the mattress, the blankets left pulled back from where he guesses she’d been laying. Her top falls away from her chest. The light is too dim for him to make out more than the gentle curves of her breasts but he looks away anyway, eyes closing until he feels the comforter pull higher on his chest as Tessa burrows under it and hears the click of the lamp.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs after he feels Tessa release a settled sigh.

“What’s that?”

Scott rolls on his side towards her. “Spend your life in freezing rinks, then decide to freeze when you’re trying to sleep.” He runs his hand up her arm under the blanket. Goosebumps, the entire way. “Jesus.”

She yawns, not bothering to cover her mouth or hide it in the blanket nestled under her chin. “You’re here now. Bed already feels warmer.”

“Full of shit,” he mutters and he smiles when she laughs low in her throat. “Night, Tess.”

He sinks heavy into the mattress, can feel the sleep that’s evaded him so far tonight starting to creep in. Tessa, like always, rocks one of her feet, her whole leg bouncing. Patiently, he waits for her to settle, for her leg to slow the sleepier she gets. She doesn’t stop, merely switches legs, and after what he guesses is a few minutes, just rolls over with a tired huff.

There’s no way he’ll feel right, letting her presence lull him to sleep if she’ll still toss and turn. His fingers brush the strap of her top as he nudges her arm. “Come here.”

Her body curls around his, quick and easy. Her head pillows on his shoulder, one arm curling between them while the other wraps around his middle. Their legs, which for most of their lives have mirrored one another, tangle together. Tessa’s feet are like ice blocks. In the same breath she apologizes and thanks him, her words punctuated by a squeeze to his side.

They’re still together for only a moment before Tessa starts drumming her fingers lightly against him, traveling up to rest over his heart. It’s there that she lets her palm fall flat and there’s a hitch to her shoulders beneath his touch, like she’s realized that he may be trying to sleep and shouldn’t be mapping out imaginary trails along his body. “Once upon a time,” Scott starts after a small sigh. He hopes that his faux exasperation comes across as just that, fake and exaggerated, and when Tessa laughs, he smiles. “There was a hockey player who loved coffee and donuts.”

“Are you telling me about Tim’s in fairytale form?”

He lifts his shoulder to jostle her head, even though it’s the exact opposite of what he should be doing. “If you’d be quiet.” He clears his throat, dramatic. “Once upon a time,” he repeats, “there was a hockey player who loved coffee and donuts. Sometimes, when his eyes followed the puck, it would turn into a donut right before his eyes. He knew, that as much as he loved to play hockey, that he needed to make donuts just as much. It was a feeling, you know, not just a want. This hockey player  _ needed _ to share his donuts with the world.” Tessa shifts, her chin perching on his chest. The curtains are drawn so there’s no chance of moonlight illuminating the room, but his phone lights up with some notification and he can see how bright her eyes are, the smile she wore earlier even bigger. “So whenever this hockey player wasn’t playing hockey, he was making donuts. You know, maybe he should be called a donut maker instead of a hockey player. I seem to be putting a lot of emphasis on the donut part.”

“Scott?”

His phone goes dark but he can still see her. “Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” His response is instant and reflexive, and he doesn’t fully process their exchange until her lips are on his and she’s pressing her body closer to his. It’s not something they’ve ever done before, not intentionally, not really save one moment that feels more like a dream than a memory, and he’s not sure either of them count the handful of times their mouths have brushed one another’s while on the ice. It is at once an invigoration and a sedation; his heart beats wildly in his chest, his hand coming to curl softly in her hair, his eyes open wide even as hers have delicately closed, her lips burning against his own as they kiss slow and delicate.

She pulls away too soon. It wasn’t enough or maybe it was too much. He can still feel her against his mouth but will he be able to tomorrow, next month, next year?

Tessa sighs, finger coming up to trail along his jaw, trace his bottom lip. “Okay?” He nods but he can tell that it’s not enough and so he rasps out a yes which makes Tessa smile. There’s not enough light for him to see all the intricacies of it, no matter how much his eyes have adjusted to the dark, and it’s a shame, he thinks, because he wants to see her like this, wants to remember, clear as day, what it’s like to have Tessa over him.

Turning on the light will ruin the moment, he’s sure of it, and, even if it wouldn’t, Scott doesn’t want to do anything that could upset the delicate balance they have right now. He wants to keep Tessa in his arms for as long as she’ll allow.

Her hand moves back to his chest as her nose nuzzles his own. He has no idea how Tessa is breathing so steady when it feels like his is already ragged from their innocent kisses. She always has been stronger than him though.

His fingers massage the back of her scalp for lack of anything better to do, to give him an excuse to keep his hand buried in her tangled hair. In actuality, he probably doesn’t need an excuse, not when Tessa’s lips are still so close to his and her leg has slipped between his own and her hip pushes into his other hand until his thumb finds a home on the skin between her shirt and shorts. 

There’s a calmness to Tessa now, a settling, and Scott thinks that if that was what she needed to find the peace to sleep, he’ll willingly give it ten times over despite the electricity running under his skin. For a moment he worries that’s it, that she’ll kiss him only once more and then curl into his side to sleep; that, like him, she is just trying to soak up this feeling as much as she can before deciding that everything else is more important. Instead, she moves surely against him, her leg hitching higher until it rests across his hips, her hand sliding down to meet it, his shirt bunched into her fist. “Okay?” she asks again, right against his mouth, and what better answer could he give than a kiss?

He tilts his chin to close the gap and the hum that sounds from the back of her throat is heavenly. Her hand lets go of his shirt only to dive beneath it, fingers no longer delicate as they explore the topography of his torso, and he takes that as permission to hold her a little tighter, to dig his hand into the flesh at her hip as if they were on the ice and he’s making sure she doesn’t fall. A sigh is passed from her mouth to his and he’s not sure how it creates such a stirring in his sweats, but it does, and she must feel it against her thigh and she doesn’t pull away, in fact pushes against him more firmly and god, he must be dreaming, right? Surely he never came up to Tessa’s room or maybe he did but sleep must’ve found him because this scenario has happened too many times in his dreams. 

Careful, he rolls them over, Tessa’s back hitting the mattress and her legs wrapping low around his hips while her arms twine around his neck. There’s a slight quirk to her lips against his when he presses against her and his own curl upward at the feeling. Having her body pressed so firmly against his own feels real; the heat coming from between her thighs, her ribs expanding against his chest, her fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his neck and her nails making crescents in his skin.

Her hips roll against his and her hand skates down his back, curls around his torso to palm him. It’s all he can do to gasp against her mouth, push himself into her touch. He feels almost virginal again, too overwhelmed by the feeling of her hand working its way beneath his sweats to explore Tessa, but he, thankfully, comes back to himself the moment Tessa takes his cock in her hand. He’d never forgive himself, never, if he spent this precious, limited, moment not doing everything he’s dreamt of.

Tessa whines when he shuffles back, forcing her to drop his cock, and he laughs quietly which he can tell makes her pout based on how her face shifts as he trails kisses down her jaw and into the hollow of her throat. Holding his weight on one elbow, he finds the curve of her breast under her shirt. He traces the small swells, circles closer until he can thumb at the puckered skin of her nipple. He wants to take her in his mouth, wants to leave a mark against her pale skin to find in the morning. He wants to taste her, to have her scent wake him tomorrow. He wants it all.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, force his mouth back up to hers. “Please,” she whispers between kisses, more innocent than any they’ve shared. Feet at his thighs, she pushes his sweats down and before she can get her own off, he hooks his fingers in the waist of her shorts and underwear. It’s the furthest they’ve been apart since they got into bed and Tessa makes grabby hands at him as her legs try to bring him back to the cradle of her hips. 

She has to know that he’ll never go far from her.

Hand between their bodies, Tessa strokes him twice, grip firm at the base and teasing at his slit, then guides him to her cunt. She’s so wet that he slips against her and if they had the time (it doesn’t occur to him then that all they have is time), he’d spend minutes just sliding against her, nudging her clit with his cock until she begged. As it is, Tessa only allows him one glide against her before pushing him lower until he’s pressed against her entrance, hot and leaking, waiting for him to tip them over.

It is with no thought that he slips inside. He doesn’t think of the fact he should’ve grabbed a condom, doesn’t think of asking her what this means, if they’ll be okay with the consequences they’ll face in the morning of this coupling. All Scott thinks about is that Tessa is below him, warm and inviting and wanting, hips rolling to meet his own and sheath his cock in her cunt in one fell swoop, and that if this is how she wants it done, so be it. 

He has always been the one to follow his feelings.

Whenever he’s dared to think about this scenario, of him and Tessa finally having sex, he always feared his mind would become overwhelmed as it was happening, that he would be so consumed by lust and desperation that he would not savour the moment; feared it would become a blur that he was never truly present for and would struggle to remember afterwards. Perhaps it’s because he’s a little older than when he first had those fantasies, or perhaps it’s because this has occurred so organically, with no plan, no preamble, no build-up, that his mind is mercifully blank.

He gives in to all the sensations that surround him, grabs a hold of them, commits them to his memory: the taste of Tessa's spearmint toothpaste mingling with the freshmint on his own tongue, the brush of the rich cotton sheets against his skin, the sound of their lips as they meet again and again and again, her breathing quickening as, together, they adjust the angle a little and his dick strokes perfectly against the ridge inside her until a stream of soft whines intermingled with whispered curses fall from her lips as she gets closer and closer to release, her walls beginning to flutter around him.

It’s unsurprising when their lips begin to lose their rhythm, the coiling in their bellies overtaking everything else. Scott buries his head in her neck, mouthing at the sweaty skin he finds there as her own legs start to slip in the sweat gathered at his back. Her hands feel as though they’re branding him, burning beautifully at his ribs and the back of his neck, her thumb rubbing at his earlobe as she moans, deep from her chest. It is the most wonderful sound he’s heard all day. 

Tessa balances at the precipice, her cunt like a vice around him, and he works a hand between them, finds the thin strip of coarse curls and her swollen clit right below it. It’s guesswork, surmising how she likes to be touched, but he learns quickly that he just needs to supply pressure and tiny circles against her. Her whole body starts to arch so Scott pulls back and watches Tessa fall apart.

Despite all her earlier noise, she is silent. Her mouth falls open, her eyebrows knit together, and her thighs tighten and quake around his hips. The hand at his ribs feels like it’s trying to claw into his skin while her other hand fists the sheets. Her hips stay firmly against him, rolling after the initial flood like she’s trying to make her orgasm last as long as she can. He thrusts once more while thumbing at her clit and it’s then, when a second, smaller wave of pleasure washes over her that he knows he’s done for. 

Quick as he can, he pulls out, not missing the whine of disappointment that comes from Tessa, and they take his soaking cock in hand together. Two, sloppy strokes and then he’s spilling against her stomach as she kisses his cheeks, his jaw, his parted lips.

She strokes him until he’s soft and too sensitive and they kiss the entire time as if they hadn’t stopped and they’ve been doing it their entire lives.

They keep going until she yawns against his mouth and she smiles sleepily. Grabbing the pillow he’d been using, he cleans her up the best he can, some of his come still pooled on her stomach, until she takes his hand in her sticky one and tugs him back up.

She scoots so they can share the clean pillow and he is quick to settle down behind her, molding his body to hers and draping his arm across her waist. Goosebumps erupt on her skin and she shivers slightly. He smirks to himself before he registers the still frigid temperature of the room around him, and with a sigh he sits back up to pull the sheets back over their damp bodies, bringing the blanket with them for good measure, lest they wake up with pneumonia or icicles hanging from their nipples. He giggles silently at the thought.

“Wasso funny?” Tessa mumbles, sleepily, her hand coming up a little uncoordinatedly to rub at her nose. It wrinkles and he wonders if she smells them.

“Nothing,” he says softly, leaning over to brush some of her hair off her face before he settles back against her with a gentle kiss to the delicate skin of her neck beneath her ear. “Goodnight Tess. Sweet dreams.”

She sighs out her own goodnight and her breathing steadies out right before sleep claims him.

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest C, thank you so much for agreeing to write this with me, even though I have ‘used you for sex’! I never could have done my odd little idea justice in the way that you have, and I have loved every moment of this collaboration. I am honoured to call you both a writing partner and a friend. Much love, E.
> 
> E, it means the absolute world to me that you wanted to write this together! It was a nice little challenge for me to write to fit the beautiful tone you set and I hope I did your words justice! Shall we do this again sometime?! Love, C


End file.
